Marge Piercy

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All Hell Breaks Loose

A fairly peaceful week here.  Covid is advancing rapidly.  I look at the map and the four towns of the outer Cape, Eastham, Wellfleet, Truro and Provincetown are almost alone in not being of high risk, except for parts of the Berkshires.  Even Orleans has moved into the high risk category this week.  the middle and upper Cape towns are  all in the danger category.  No wonder so many summer people are wintering here this year.  I only hope we can stay safe.

We had a mother and daughter who are inside our little bubble over for supper last night in a cold dining room with two windows open and the fan on, bundled up but able to talk and laugh and eat together.  They are both very careful.

I have been ordering seeds one catalog at a time because the mail is so sluggish and so many people are gardening now that already some seeds are sold out.  Normally Woody and I sit down in the living room and order together, but because things are so weird this year, I’m doing all the ordering as each catalog arrives.  This way I don’t get the best prices but at least I hope get the seeds we want.

At 3:30 on Wednesday the 6th, I finished exercise and sat down on the cough with a heating pad as I was a bit sore.  I turned on the television to see the Capital being stormed by Trumpers.  I watched the insurrection in horror and trepidation, afraid what could happen.  I stayed glued to the TV until 8:30 pm, waiting and waiting for the police to take action.  Always thinking of how the police respond when BLM people take to the streets in many places.  I remember tanks and national guard with rifles and automatic weapons in the streets of Detroit when Black people rioted, with a hell of a lot more reason. I remember how the riot police attacked us when we demonstrated against the Vietnam War.  I was kneecapped, beaten, gassed several times.  I kept waiting for any kind of response at the Capital equivalent to what the insurrectionists were doing.  How polite and gentle the police were allowing rioters to go away without bothering them so that they can hang around to attack again.

I will never forget those images.

I barely wrote this week, between the riot and seed ordering I didn’t seem able to concentrate on a poem.  I’m enjoying Wild Card weekend as a respite from anything that matters. For Tashe and Stephanie, I made a spicy New England pot roast, served with good bread and a salad.